Darkest Shadow
by bubba92347
Summary: When Valdr awakes in a cell, he assumes once again his life is going to be ended. But by chance he meets a man, claiming to work in the shadows of the Dark Brotherhood, offers him a chance of a lifetime to become a legendary assassin, for none other than the Night Mother herself.


Chapter One

Dark and dreary were the surroundings inhabitants of the inside of the cell. Then the occasional drip of the water, seeping through the musty aged boards above my head to attract my attention. A few nestled spiders lay dormant in the corner, finally settling from a busy day of spinning another section of their web. The Imperials drag through the darkness yet another Skooma addict, rambling on in his own world. Struggling with the brawn of the guards, a slap to the side of his face with their metal gloves sends him into a hurl of confusion. He lies on the floor; his knees tucked into his chest as he rambles on aimlessly and suppresses a few sobs.

The Imperials chuckle, approach my cell, they peer into the darkness. For a moment they do not notice me awake, and then they see the flicker of my eyes. Jumping back, they sneer and shove the dingy meal of bread and cheese into the dirt before tossing it carelessly into my cell.

"Best watch yourself Nord before you catch yourself in more trouble than your thieving hands can handle." The stockier guard exclaims. Puffing his chest up, trying to threaten me into submission.

This guard, as all Imperials, believes me to have stolen yet another one of his precious items, or as rather in fact, it was said that I had stolen a glass sword from a case. They quickly changed the idea, prejudiced men finding any way to get a race they hate into a cell. Yet another murdered had plagued the moral of the citizens in Bruma. With my fair grace of luck I was pointed as the assassin and taken into the Imperial City, awaiting my own execution.

Here I lie, in wait of my execution which I cannot avoid. I dream of the endless mountain ranges that soar across the country of Skyrim, my home, born within the small town of Windhelm I long to return.

The new prisoner stands up and with his small eyes, peers across the dark hallway and stares at my cell. Searching the darkness, it does not take him long to find the shadowy figure of my body. Trying to gain my attention, he hurtles a rock in my direction, _pinging_ off the metal bars. I roll over from my sack sleeping roll, scratching my large beard before standing. Shivering at the cold air, I wish for more clothing than the thin sack cloth used only to keep modesty.

"What in oblivion do you want?" I yell at him.

"You killed that man! That was you! Or not man, you killed the old lady that worked in the orphanage in Riften! I have heard many stories of you!"

"You have been lied to. I am no killer, and I indeed do not kill old women whom work in orphanages. You have me confused with someone else, I assure you. Now please, return to your sleep." That was indeed too much to ask from him.

"No, no, no! I know it was you! I remember seeing you in Riften the night before everyone realized she had been killed!"

"Listen here. I will tell you the truth if you slide that lock picker over here."

"You're going to free us? Why haven't you ever done this before I arrived?"

"Because I arrived here yesterday. Now slide me the lock pick so we can get the devil out of this rat hole!

Without another word he slid the lock pick over to me. Granted I had to lead him several times in the correct direction, especially with his horrid eyesight he claimed to have. Pushing the lock pick into the rusted lock, I have to fiddle around a minute before I was able to find the bumpers, then using the wooden stick I had crafted, I turned the lock and with one solid shove, popped open the door.

Slowly, I emerge from the cell. I made plenty sure to not squeak the rusty hinges that would make a nasty trip to the gallows in a few seconds. Squatting in the darkness, I advance to the opposite cell, making sure not to fall on the light emitted from the torches. Taking a deep breath, I balance on my haunches as I pick the lock. This lock was trickier, more rust had settled with the bumpers, which would make for quite the trouble. After several attempts I pried open the cell door with only a slight squeak.

Placing my index finger to my mouth, I make sure to keep the man quiet. Usually I do not take people along with me but I needed the lock pick to escape. Giving him freedom also was the only fast solution and if he was addicted it wouldn't be long before he was either arrested again, or killed. A sorry fate for him, but nonetheless no addict has a happy ending.

Moving quietly, I make sure to keep my feet from scuffing or producing any sound that might alert the guards. My plan was the window. I would open it, and below was a hundred foot drop into an extremely deep pool of water which connected to the ocean. From there I would swim to the shore, and work my way up between Bruma and Cheydinhal, which would put me at the border and in Riften. This had always been my plan, and really there was no other plan. As long as this addict did not slow me down, I would be able to reach Riften within a day.

As we finally reach the window, I pop off the latch and carefully open up our escape. Peering out into the stormy night, rain stung my face as I begun to climb out of the window, the door squealed open, and revealed the second patrol of guards.

"Stop! In the name of the law!" They shouted.

Hurrying myself, I leaned out over the lake, and prepared to jump as a arrow planted itself into my back. Clutching my back in burning pain, I do not remember hitting the water; I do not remember the fall. I do not remember anything but darkness surrounding my vision.

What are you supposed to expect, after a fall that should have claimed you life? I was not sure myself, after the fall I was sure everything was over. With an arrow jutting out from my back, I was unable to swim. The arrow was stuck between my shoulder blade and spine, a lethal kill, should have been a lethal kill. Instead, my entire right arm was shut down, and my range of motion was worthless.

Trying to navigate through the water blind was hard enough, but adding arrows and an am that does not operate correctly challenges you greatly. As I attacked the water with one arm, I kicked my legs with all my might, and eventually surfaced through, gasping and inhaling the fresh air. Peering around, I could see no sign of the skooma addict who had accompanied me to our escape. Then I saw him, leaping from the window with a sword in hand, and a guard falling down with him.

Swimming my way to shore, he was not far behind me, helping me hobble away from the guards. We ran for miles like this, trying to distance ourselves as much as we could before out energy levels diminished. Each of us were breathing heavier than we should have been but the rough swimming and sprinting we had to do took all my endurance from me. My sides had cramps running and splintering throughout my entire body. It did not take long for my entire body to shut down. By this time we had run for hours and passing out was my only relief.

When I awoke a roaring fire was before me, and the skooma addict was continually feeding small branches or twigs to the hungry red flames. He was intelligent for an addict; he kept the fire small, and made sure no smoke was traceable. He had fish sizzling on spits, and he kept a wary eye on the flames, making sure they would not consume his meal.

I rolled over from where I had slept, feeling the pain of where an arrow had been removed recently, and the bandages that replaced the arrow. I was thankful that he did know how to do things beside drink skooma. Taking my time to sit up, he watched in amusement as I winched at the pain of trying to move. Eventually I was able to sit, and I looked directly at him with pained eyes.

"Glad to see you have finally woken. I was sure that you'd be out longer, but you are a faster healer than I had expected. Now tell me, what is your name?"

"Why would that concern you?"

"I would like to know the name of the Nord that saved my hide. Not all Redguards get so lucky as to find someone to save their skins as I have."

"Valdr."

"It is my pleasure to meet your acquaintance Valdr. Valdr I have a business I run, up north in Skyrim. You have skills that are much needed in my craft, and I know about your…gifts."

"What gifts? You must be mistaken with some other man."

"Oh no, I know I have found the right man. If I recall correctly you should have been dead from that arrow shot. Hit you directly in the spine. When I went to remove it from you, it was already being pushed out by your muscle, nothing ordinary if you ask me."

"So then what are you trying to say? That I am not normal? That I am some rarity of nature and have been gifted the power to never die?"

"Precisely Valdr. I know that you do possess this power, because I remember you saving my hide many years ago, when I was a boy in Hammerfell. You probably don't remember but you saved me form a band of guild rats that were trying to kill me."

"You? You were that tiny kid stealing?"

"Yes, and now I have found you and repaid the debt, so I ask you again as a friend that you come with me and try out this job offer I have proposed."

"If it is a job I work for a hefty price."

"Oh wages are not a concern, it your methods that concern me enough to hire you. This isn't a regular job I am offering either; this is a onetime opportunity to help change the way things are run around here. Accept the job, and come with me, or you can stay here and end up escaping from another jail cell."

"I will take the offer."

"Good to hear it. I'm glad the skooma addict trick worked on you." The Redguard said standing, "Valdr, you can call me Nazir."


End file.
